"She’s got eyes of the bluest skies as if they thought of rain. I hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain… Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place where as a child I’d hide and pray for the thunder and the rain to quietly pass me by."
“You know how people long to be eternal. But they die with every day that passes. When you meet them, they’re not what you met last. In any given hour, they kill some part of themselves. They change, they deny, they contradict—and they call it growth. At the end there’s nothing left, nothing unreversed or unbetrayed; as if there had never been an entity, only a succession of adjectives fading in and out on an unformed mass.”